The Pair of Jacks
by Die Verdammten
Summary: "I was always told that willpower can conquer any obstacle...I'm starting to wonder whether that could ever possibly be true."


**Prolouge**

**Hey there folks, its been quite some time since I was last on this site. And Im giving another crack at Fanfiction, so have fun  
sit back, relax, and enjoy.**

It's been quiet out recently, I kind of like it. If it weren't for the thousands of walking corpses out to consume me, I think I could get used to it, but silence was as unnerving as it was relaxing. Silence is most commonly the point in time where you realized you may be fucked. These thoughts of course weren't even crossing my mind as I took a peek over at my friend, he was a heavy sleeper, and he snored a lot, which bugged the shit out of me. But it was still nice to have a friend around, y'know, someone who wasn't trying to sink their teeth into your flesh consistently.

I kept a steady watch out the back safe room door as I sighed to myself, leaning against the stock of my shotgun to keep myself in a comfortable position. It was quite simple keeping watch, stare out the door for two hours, shooting anything that got too close, or at least stabbing it, then waking your partner and taking a turn unconscious. Taking a quick glance at my watch, I was counting down the last ten minutes before I got the sweet release of slumber, something to refresh me...even if only for two hours. Closing my eyes for a moment, I attempted to picture our current safe heaven as what it used to be. A home, with a husband and wife, maybe a kid or two, then a scream rang out through the house, from one of the kids' bedrooms. The Mother racing upstairs to find in complete horror that one of her beloved children had turned, clawing and sinking it's teeth into the others neck as the Father, prayed as he removed the rifle he kept for emergencies from it's glass case. I shook myself awake as I heard a can tip over, clattering noisily against the ground, causing me to jump a bit and poke the barrel of my gun between the bars of the red steel door.

Letting out a sigh of relief as I watched two raccoons scurry down the alleyway, appearing to wrestle with each other. Chuckling slightly, I rose to my feet, stepping over and lightly kicking my friend's side and whispering. "Get up Joseph, your turn for watch duty." I said, nudging him gently with my foot for a few minutes. He groaned as he rolled away from me, starting to get irritated, I swung my foot, giving him a sharp kick as he shot up straight. "Not my turn yet..." He whispered almost falling straight back into a deep sleep, resulting in me kicking him again.

"Bullshit it ain't your turn, get your ass up. I don't care how tired you still are I'm tired too." I said, beginning to get irritated. My temper is almost as short as my hair, which can be an issue when I get into any confrontations with those damn freaks out there. Second I get pissed off, I'm out and about trying to murder the nearest living (or non-living) thing.

"Shouldn't you be thanking me...?" He asked as he slowly got up on his knees, rising to take my spot in the chair. "I mean I did save your ass, remember?" The remark was followed by a soft chuckle, which was my only indication that he was joking, which he did more often than I'd like to admit.

Grinning as I smacked him upside the back of the head, causing him to flinch. "Yeah you did, thanks I guess...for letting me repay the favor the last four times." I said laughing quietly to myself. "If anything you're three thank yous into my debt." Plopping down on the mattress we had dragged into what used to be the living room, I took a moment to pull a small mirror from my bag, taking note of the fresh cuts and bruises that lined my face. Joseph got luckiest during beatings, no bruises, no scars, the only indication he'd have is a big ass smirk on his face whenever he thought he might be tougher than me.

We're not terribly competitive...but we do have that sort of spirit when out for supplies. How many zombies we managed to kill, how many "freaks" heads we took with the machete of fuck ups, the usual statistics you'd expect during an apocalypse. The machete of fuck ups may have been the fun part of it, a military grade, flat topped machete with screws drilled in a direct line along the flat of the blade, specifically for bludgeoning. And the rules following it were simple, whoever fucked up last, is required to carry the machete in place of their firearm for a full twenty four hours. Well...that was of course unless something big came up, for example tanks.

"Y'know we're not doing half bad for ourselves if you think about it," I said staring blankly up at the ceiling. "we both have our favorite types of weapons, and our special sword, we're almost thriving in every aspect besides food." Speaking of food, it started to become all I could think off as my stomach rumbled loudly. But of course nothing could be done about it 'till morning, as I slowly dozed off.

Tomorrow would always bring a busy day. Hope we dont die.

**Stick around folks, there will be more to this story soon, but probably not for a little bit. By the by I'm looking for an  
OC or two to throw in if I may. Message me if you got one.**


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